


theNight

by wltdjone



Category: Stray Kids
Genre: Anxiety, Light mention of suicide, M/M, Strangers, late night walks, over thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 06:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20223256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wltdjone/pseuds/wltdjone
Summary: in which chan has a lot on his mind so he decides to see the city lights





	theNight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short story I wrote 4 years ago I just edited it for skz characters and I love it a lot even though it’s not my best writing it’s what came out of my brain at 4 am when a lot was on my mind. So I’m just gonna share it I guess.

theNight.  
I remember that night like it’s the back of my hand. Summer of 2005, I called my Minho to hangout at ten that night, although I knew fully well he had plans; I pretended I didn't. I'm selfish that way.  
“I’m cold,” I said crossing my arms over my chest hoping to ignite some kind of body heat. I looked down at the rips in my jeans, exposed to the cool night air; I regretted wearing them.  
Minho checked his phone for the fifth time since he’d arrived, “I don’t know why the weather’s like this, it’s supposed to be summer,” he let out a sigh before locking his phone. I regretted asking him to come out that night, I knew he had somewhere better to be than there. Anywhere but there.  
I could’ve stayed at home, but it was so lonely and I couldn’t bare drowning in my thoughts. The last time I had decided to stay at home alone, I had looked through old albums and home videos. Changbin had come home to a sobbing mess; my hair tangled and knotted from pulling at it. My eyes bloodshot with tissues surrounding me.  
“So what do you want to do?”I asked Minho while leaning against the flickering streetlight. Somehow out of all the street lights, mine had to be the faulty one.  
He checked his phone again before answering, “We could go to a movie?” He asked, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. Sitting in a dark room watching, two people find their ‘happily ever after’ in a false reality that will never reflect onto mine. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. The last time me and Min went to a movie he had chosen a rom-com. I hate rom-coms. They had this false hope of happiness, that life had a funny side to it and you can still be in love.  
Minho waited for my answer; his phone rang and he swiped the screen pressing it against his ear, walking a couple of feet away. He was arguing with whoever is on the other side. Probably explaining his helpless loner friend wanted to go out, and how he had to cancel his plans for him. What a loser friend.  
I grabbed my phone and typed random letters in my ‘Notes’. They tend to be words of things I notice and see, maybe emotions.  
Night.  
Alone.  
Needy.  
Streetlight.  
By the time Minho got back, he had a false smile on his face, “Ready?” he asked before putting his phone in his back pocket.  
“Actually, Min I need to go home, Changbin’s waiting for dinner and you know how he gets,” I rubbed the back of my neck, knowing my excuse was a complete lie. Changbin had some underground rap battle downtown and wasn't going to be home until late. Minho didn’t know that.  
“Oh,” he said worry in his eyes, “Are you sure? I can still walk you home?” he offered; he’s such good friend. I don’t deserve him.  
“Really Min, it’s okay,” I reassured him with the best ‘I’m okay smile’ I could muster. Minho nodded before checking his phone again; he must really have to go.  
He gave me a quick hug followed by a smile, “Take care Channie,” he said before running off to the end of the street ushering a taxi, his phone pressed to his ear. I watched him walk into the taxi, before starting my way in the opposite direction.  
Walking the streets of the city seemed so unreal. I was cold and numb all over. It felt like I could almost see myself walking, no longer in control of my movements. My body was just another lifeless, cold corpse in a big city. I saw people and shadows walking past, entering bars, restaurants and any store. Everyone seemed to have somewhere to be. The city lights seemed too bright to look straight ahead; my eyes were stuck on the sidewalk, looking up every few minutes to see where I was.  
I reached the tallest building in the city, it was an apartment building that was known for the ghosts that haunted it. But everyone knew it was the old air conditioner in need of some oil.  
I go in the alley between the old apartment building, and the pizza place next door. I start climbing up the old fire escape, surprised to see the that rusty metal can carry my weight. The railings were so cold against the expose skin and the palms of my hand. I should have worn sweats instead that night. When I reached the roof, I immediately collapsed against the ledge. My body officially exhausted.  
I closed my eyes and somehow I felt even more out of my body. All I heard was the wind through my ears, tickling my neck.  
I decided to take off my sneakers, they were destroyed by then. Scratches ran through the sides, turning them from white to black.  
My feet on the roof made my body even colder. Everything was so much colder.  
I finally decided to get up and walk to the front of the building. Looking over my town. It was so unrealistic, so surreal. I sat on the ledge throwing my feet over it, letting them dangle over the building.  
The last time I was that high up was the anniversary of an old friend’s death. He had let the world get the best of him and decided to start over. He said he was gonna reincarnate into a rich british girl, who had a pet dog named ‘Polo’. He was a dreamer, a silly dreamer, but a dreamer nonetheless. I miss him.  
By the time it was 1:35 am it felt like minutes had passed instead of hours.  
“So you’re just gonna come to my hideout and sit in my spot without asking?” I heard someone say from behind me. Their voice was deep and exhausted, but still filled with amusement.  
I turned around to see a boy in pajama pants of the cookie monster, and a way too big nirvana shirt. He was holding a flat box of what looked like pizza, my hand reaches for my stomach as it grumbles. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.  
“Oh are you deaf? Should I sign? “he asked, but not in a joking way as I had thought. He began to put down the pizza on the floor and motioning to me in what seemed like sign language.  
“I’m not deaf,” I said before turning around, looking back at the town lights and the shadows that passed by.  
“ Well then,” the boy said, “ you shouldn’t have ignored me, have you no manners?” he mocked.  
I ignored him.  
“Listen I’ll let you sit in my spot if you -“ he began but I cut him off.  
“It doesn’t have your name on it,” I said a little annoyed now, but all he did was chuckle. I turned my head from the streets to him, “what now?” I asked.  
He looked at me with a smirk and pointed at the ledge, where I had been sitting. I looked under me, and noticed the red spray painted letters. I threw my legs back over the roof and stood up to read what it says; ‘Jisung Han.  
“Oh.”  
The boy,Jisung Han, laughed even more at me, causing the frustration in me to boil over. When he finally stopped he looked at me, his smile dropping. “You ok?” he asked. I look at him for a few moments before turning back to face the lights, that seemed so much farther, “I was kidding you know? You can sit there.” His voice seemed further. I looked back to see him go to the door of the roof, and pull out what looked like an old cardboard box.  
I went back to staring at the city lights from the ledge not caring what he does. My body is colder and more distant. My mind is blank. Dark and all my thoughts just seem to be too heavy.  
I usually loved the cold. When I was younger, I would go outside in the snow with a t-shirt and jeans, letting the snow fall on my bare arms and face. The cold flakes would drip down my skin when I entered the house. My mom lectured me countless times, but I didn't care. I loved the cold.  
“Here,” I felt a soft, warm feeling embraced me. When I looked to my left, I saw the Han boy sitting next to me. He set the pizza box down between us, “Do you want one?” he handed me a slice.  
I took it before facing the town once again, letting both my hands hold on to the slice. My body was warm from the soft knitting on his shoulders. But my mind was so cold. The town looked like a painting, done quickly and without thought. As if the artist threw on what colors seemed the brightest and most fluorescent. When my thoughts wandered back I realized that the Han boy was staring at me.  
But I decided against looking at him. I didn’t want to meet his eyes.  
“What are you doing here?” he asked, but it was so quiet I barely heard him. I looked at him from the corner of my eyes. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, or the beautiful fluorescent painting below us. Instead he was looking at the sky. I followed his gaze and was shocked to see the stars. They were always hidden by the fluorescent lights, yet here they were, so bright. So vivid.  
“I could ask you the same thing,” I whispered back still staring at the stars. I found some constellations, but I kept my discoveries to myself.  
He never answered me. But he did scream, and it was so loud and rough. I dropped my pizza slice from the shock.  
“What are you doing?” I yelled over him while grabbing my chest. When he finished, he looked at me, he looked into my eyes. His were as bright as the stars, and his laugh was as light as the city. And he just screams.  
“Are you crazy?” I mutter looking over the ledge, seeing if I could find the now gone pizza slice. I couldn’t see it. Oh, well.  
The boy was now standing on the ledge and with extended arms as if he was about to take flight, but instead he let out another yell. It was different that time; more emotional. And my eyes began to water.  
I wanted to do that; I wanted to scream. I wanted to fly. I wanted the stars to hear my troubles. I decided to stand on the ledge and walked to his side. When he finished his yelling, he looked at me. This time he’s crying as he laughs, tears were covering his now red cheeks. His warm eyes glazed over. And suddenly I didn’t have to ask what’s wrong, it didn’t matter. Because whatever was wrong with him or me wasn’t important. What was important is telling the world how fucked up it was and yelling at it. And that’s what we did. I yelled, I screamed, I cried. But the fucked up world drowned out our cries for help. But the stars, the stars listened.


End file.
